Page 90 of The Reality of Us
“This isn’t real,” he said hollowly. “We have to fight, Alice.” He shifted his attention to the asshole holding his phone in their faces, weird hearts and comments streaming onto the screen. “My client is clearly overwhelmed and needs time to process the allegations levelled at her. If you’ll excuse us.”
“Just stop,” Alice murmured. “You’re making it worse.”
“I’m making it worse?” Owen spluttered, lowering his voice. “You’re making it worse! Would you please listen and stop reacting from a place of panic? As your ”—she’d kill him if he said boyfriend right now—“lawyer …”
Calmly, Alice smoothed the dirt off her running shorts.
“I need you to listen to me,” she said to Owen. “I’ll handle this, okay? Your services are no longer required.”
The ground dropped out from underneath him. “I thought …” he started before he stopped, shaking his head. He looked over at the crowd and then back at her.
She sniffed, wiped her eyes, cheeks reddening. “This was a mistake. This whole thing.” She was pretending to talk about the video, but Owen knew the truth. She didn’t want him anymore.
He swallowed rapidly, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “You don’t mean that.”
“I do,” she whispered.
He ground his crutch into the dirt, hearing the crunch of twigs and leaves snapping underneath it.
An ambulance pulled into the car park.
“Take my car,” he said, not looking at Alice. She might not want him anymore, but he couldn’t leave her here with nowhere to hide from the cameras. “The keys are in my drop bag. Give them to Teddy when you get home.”
“Owen …”
“Don’t.” He threw her previous plea back in her face as he turned away. Charlie passed him the crutch he’d dropped, and he hobbled away.
It was almost funny, really.
His brothers were always telling him he couldn’t save everyone. Why did Alice have to be the one who proved them right?
32
Owen was already awake when the short, sharp knock sounded on the bedroom door. He blinked, staring at the timber walls of Nate’s bedroom. His family had met him at the hospital yesterday, their faces lined with pity and worry, unspoken questions filling the room, mixing with the heavy smell of antiseptic.
“O? It’s after eleven. Do you need help getting up?” Nate asked.
Owen threw back the covers and sat up, shuffling over to swing his legs over the side of the bed. “I’m okay,” he said, wincing at how rough he sounded. He cleared his throat as he braced his palms on the mattress on either side of his thighs. Once he’d had his MRI, he’d go into the office and grab everything he needed to work from home for the next week or so.
Nate pushed the door open, a cup of steaming coffee in one hand. “Here.” His hair was wet, his feet bare. He crossed the room and set it down on the dark oak bedside table.
Owen sipped the warm drink and tried to act like he hadn’t been awake all night. The room was dark, thanks to the blockout curtains. His clothes from the race were crumpled in the corner near the en-suite door. He vaguely remembered arguing with Nate about sleeping on the couch when they’d gotten home from the hospital around one in the morning. But his brother had insisted on taking the couch. Said he’d be up half the night readjusting to Australian time anyway.
Nate picked up a fleecy black blanket that had fallen off the bed and draped it around Owen’s shoulders. It smelt like the lavender laundry detergent their mother used. Owen always bought the same one, too. Maybe things other than DNA were hereditary as well. Like showing up and caring for family when they needed it. He scrubbed a hand across his chin, feeling the beginnings of his beard. “Sorry about last night. I shouldn’t have said that stuff about you and Eloise.” He’d lashed out when Nate had tried to talk to him about Alice.
Nate shrugged. “You were hurt … in more ways than one. You get a free pass.”
“Still, it wasn’t fair. How you live your life is your business.”
Nate’s chest rose, and he looked out the window. “It’s okay. I know it doesn’t make sense, but I can’t give her what she wants. Doesn’t seem fair to waste her time or jeopardise our friendship.”
The blanket around Owen’s shoulders itched. How wrong he’d been to think he could provide Alice with what she needed. He shook his head, focusing on his brother. “How do you know you can’t give her what she wants?”
A sad smile bloomed briefly on Nate’s face before it disappeared. “I just do.”
Owen stared at the floor, one hand clasping the blanket around his shoulders, the other holding his coffee cup. “I watched the video someone took of us after the race last night,” he confessed.
“Of you and Alice?”
